


Avengers Live in Avengers Tower

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Series: A Modern American Family Unit [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Sign Language, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, First Meetings, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Non-SHIELD Phil Coulson, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Parent Clint Barton, Parent Phil Coulson, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: One by one, Phil and Maggie meet the Avengers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts), [theladytian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladytian/gifts).



> This is a sort of an interlude fic, in that it’s a small 5+1 style fic meant to augment the previous fic and the as yet unwritten sequel. It takes place over several months immediately following the first fic in the series, except the last scene, which is probably over a year later.
> 
> Also, please remember that, when Charlie is present, everyone who can sign (which is everyone in this fic, even if they’re just learning) is signing, unless it says they’re not.
> 
> For Ralkana and theladytian. I’m so sorry, ladies. I know I promised you separate gift fics, but I lost my mojo for a very long time. I hope you can forgive me, and accept this shared gift. If I’m ever able finish the other, I will gift it to you both as well!
> 
> Beta-ed by InsidiousInk! Thank you so very much! You know I love you.

**1.**

“Oh my God, Phil, I’m so sorry,” Clint said as he opened his front door. “I meant to call you and cancel.”

“Oh,” Phil said, surprised and a little disappointed. “Okay. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. It’s just, Natasha got hurt today. She’ll be fine, but she needs help tonight. So I’m out a babysitter too, which means Charlie’s home and it looks like date night is a bust. I’m sorry.”

“Clint, it’s okay. I understand. Do you want some help, maybe?”

Far from being relieved at the offer, Clint’s face actually tightened as he obviously thought through what to say. “I would, honestly, but Nat . . . She’s really private, you know? Even when everything’s fine, but injured, she’s, well.” Clint didn’t say _vulnerable_ , but Phil heard it anyway.

“It’s fine, Barton,” a familiar, throaty voice called from inside the apartment. “Let him in.”

This time, the surprise was Clint’s, and he turned his head to call back, “You sure?”

“For the love of— I’m not made of spun sugar! It’s fine!”

Clint shrugged, muttered, “All right,” in a disbelieving tone, and swung the door open wider for Phil to enter.

Phil stepped inside and into the living room, rounding the couch to see Natasha sitting on it with her leg in a brace, stretched across the cushions. Charlie sat on the floor in front of her, happily working a game controller, steering a car on the TV. “Hello,” Phil greeted, and got only a hurried salute in return from Charlie.

“Coulson,” Natasha intoned. He’d told her before to call him Phil, but it didn’t seem to come naturally to her. “Sorry to crash your date.”

“Please don’t worry about it. How are you feeling?”

She grunted a little. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure.”

“Where’s Maggie?”

“Downstairs at the daycare,” Phil replied.

“Yeah, we weren’t exactly thinking it’d be a kid-friendly kind of night,” Clint drawled.

Natasha smirked. “So that’s why you don’t have dinner ready.”

“Dinner was the least of my plans,” Clint said, and Phil shook his head at the leer in his tone. 

“Well,” Natasha said to Phil, “since that’s all gone to hell anyway, why don’t you go get her?”

“Yeah?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s not going to climb all over me like a monkey, is she?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s fine.”

Phil nodded and turned back to the door, only to have Clint follow him out. “Are you okay with this?” Phil asked, suddenly unsure.

“What? Oh, yeah. I just—” Clint grabbed him and gave him a long, deep kiss, which Phil eagerly returned. “Just wanted to do that,” Clint said after, a bit breathless, “before we really have to downshift into PG.”

“Never going to complain about that.” Phil gave Clint a quick peck, then pulled away. “Back in a few.”

Phil and Maggie returned to the apartment ten minutes later, Maggie having been properly cautioned about being careful around Miss Natasha. She slowly approached the couch, forgoing even her normal Charlie hug, with her hands carefully still until she started signing. “Hello.”

“Hello, _myshka_. How are you?”

Maggie very solemnly stuck her elbow out. “I got a owwie too.”

“Oh dear,” Natasha replied in kind, carefully inspecting the small scrape. “Were you attacked by an enemy combatant?”

“No?” Maggie said, a bit uncertain. “I fell off the monkey bars. But only because Tommy G. started coming from the other side and didn’t stop, even though I was there first!”

“That sounds like hostile aggression to me. Next time, take him down with you.”

“Nat,” Clint warned from the kitchen, even before Phil could utter his own request.

Natasha huffed. “Fine. Next time, tell a teacher.” Smiling slyly, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “The time after that, you take him down.” 

Maggie giggled an “Okay,” and Natasha sent Phil a look, daring him to contradict her. 

Instead, Phil said, “Sounds about right to me,” and turned on his heel to go help his boyfriend, who was laughing hysterically, with dinner.

 

_________

 

**2.**

“Sorry, guys,” Clint said. “Looks like the forecast was wrong.”

Charlie nodded dejectedly and turned away from the nearly floor-to-ceiling window. His disappointment had nothing on Maggie’s, though—her little hands flew up to press against the glass, her nose just a hair’s breadth away from doing the same.

“Hands, Miss Maggie,” Phil reminded her, and she quickly tucked them behind her back but didn’t otherwise move. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Phil tried. “There will still be a few snow days left.”

“But not on a Saturday,” she said, just skirting the edge of a whine.

“Maybe on a Sunday!” Clint was clearly trying for jovial, and Maggie just as clearly wasn’t having it.

“But I’m ready now!” she said as she finally turned, indignant. She certainly was ready. Other than her gloves, she hadn’t divested any of her considerable winter wear, impatient to get to the park with her toboggan. She looked like a tiny pink and yellow Michelin Man, topped with a lavender beanie.

Phil tried very hard to hold back his grin, knowing it would only irk her further. “We can’t control the weather, Mags,” he said, making sure to weave a slight tone of warning through his words.

She gave a very dramatic sigh but said nothing more, choosing instead to stomp her way to the couch just as the lights flickered to indicate someone at the door. Clint moved to answer it and Maggie threw herself down next to Charlie, who reached over and tugged her hat off.

“Such long faces,” a new voice proclaimed, and Phil turned. The speaker was tall, broad, and looking at the kids with a concerned expression but a twinkle in his eye. “What tragedy has befallen this happy household?”

“It’s not snowing,” Clint explained when Maggie either didn’t understand the question or outright ignored it in favor of pouting, and Charlie merely patted her leg. “Phil, Maggie, this is . . .”

Phil cocked his head and grinned as Clint tried to figure out how to introduce Thor without using his name. For, despite the lack of cape or hammer, and the casual t-shirt, jeans, and ponytail, the man couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

“. . . Mr. Odinson.” Clint touched one finger to his ear, then made two fists with his hands, in the shape of _t_ s, and moved them back and forth in front of his shoulders.

“Mr. Odinson,” Phil greeted, copying the sign and then offering his hand. “Phil Coulson.”

“Mr. Coulson.”

Phil considered telling him he could use Phil’s first name, but thought better of it. With Thor being well known as an Avenger, it would be best to avoid first names completely when Maggie was present.

Thor didn’t give him a chance to say more anyway, simply giving Phil a welcoming smile, moving to crouch in front of the kids, and offering Maggie his hand. “Hello, Miss Coulson.”

Maggie shot a look at Phil, saw his raised eyebrow, and uncrossed her arms to shake Mr. Odinson’s hand. “Hi.”

Thor took his hand back to sign as he spoke once more. “I had heard of your plans today, and was sorry when I woke to see the weather had not obliged. It is a difficult thing for people to predict, even the so-called experts.”

“I know,” Maggie replied, petulant. “I was just _hoping_.”

“Of course you were. No one could fault you for that. Sometimes, however, a little patience is all that’s required.”

A small rumble sounded in the distance, and Phil looked out the window to see a bit of cloud cover rolling in. “Is that a good idea?” he muttered to Clint, thinking of weather cycles and Mother Nature and the butterfly effect.

“He won’t go overboard,” Clint whispered in return. “Anyway, this is nothing compared to some of the storms he’s had to conjure. It won’t hurt anything.”

“It’s hard to be patient when you want something,” Charlie was signing to Thor when Phil tuned back in to their conversation. “Especially when you’re five.”

Phil barely stopped his laugh in time, but Thor only nodded sagely. “It is. But sometimes patience brings great rewards.” He tilted his head towards the window, and everyone else in the room turned to look.

Snow was falling, gentle but plentiful, swirling in the air and landing to softly coat the streets.

Maggie gasped and jumped off the couch. “It’s snowing! Daddy, look, it’s snowing!”

“How about that?” Phil replied.

“I think you’ll find,” Thor said, standing up with a smile, “if you head off to the park now, there will be plenty of snow on the ground for whatever adventures you may choose.”

“Can we go now, Daddy?”

“Well, we did come all this way,” Phil mused. “And you _are_ already dressed for it.”

“Yay! Get your coat, Charlie!”

Charlie did as he was told, running down the hall with Maggie hot on his heels, as always.

“Thank you, Mr. Odinson.”

“You are most welcome, Son of Coul.”

 

_________

 

**3.**

Phil stepped into the elevator, Maggie at his side, happily nattering at him about her day. “Just one second, sweetheart,” Phil interrupted gently. “Hello, Jarvis.”

“Good evening, Mr. Coulson, Miss Coulson. Am I correct in presuming you are here to pick up young Mr. Barton?”

“We’re here for Charlie!” Maggie proclaimed with glee. “His daddy is at work, and so is Miss Natasha.”

“Ah, yes,” Jarvis replied, and Phil was once again amazed at the intricacies of the AI’s programming. “In that case . . .” 

The elevator started to descend, surprising Phil and, apparently, Maggie, who looked up at the ceiling accusingly. “Charlie is _up_ , Jarvis.”

“Usually, miss, yes. At the moment, however, he is in the private garage, which is downstairs.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Manners, please,” Phil reminded her. He wasn’t sure she totally understood that Jarvis wasn’t a person over an intercom; Phil himself sometimes forgot that fact. He wasn’t sure Jarvis’s intelligence and personality didn’t classify him as a person, anyway. He was certainly worthy of basic human decencies.

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Phil had no idea why Charlie would be in the garage or what to expect when the doors opened, but it certainly wasn’t to see a space that looked more like a car showroom than a simple parking lot, or Stark in grease-stained jeans and tank top leaning over the open hood of a Bentley. Charlie stood on the driver’s side, balanced on an upturned crate with his back to Phil and Maggie, watching Stark and tapping one foot in time with the beat of the music blasting over the speakers.

Stark set a ratchet down on a rolling tray. “Okay,” he signed. “Try now.”

Charlie hopped down eagerly, skittered around to the open car door and climbed in. The engine revved to life and Charlie barked a laugh, then climbed back out again and ran to the diagnostic machine, studying the screen intently. He signed something to Stark, but Phil couldn’t see what it was.

“You think?” Stark signed back, his mouth moving but the words mostly lost under the music. “We can try that next. Also, you have visitors.” Phil hadn’t realized they’d been spotted, but Stark pointed to Phil and Maggie without so much as glancing in their direction.

Charlie turned, and Phil saluted a hello, his lips tugging up into a fond grin at the sight of Charlie’s happiness, and at the grease spots on his smiling cheeks. Charlie waved, and dutifully held still as Maggie ran to him for a hug.

Stark finally turned, made a gesture which prompted the volume of the music to drop considerably, and leaned against the car to smirk at Phil. “Coulson.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“This must be the Mini-Coulson,” Stark added as Maggie pulled away from Charlie and started nattering at him instead, her hands moving with careful precision. Phil couldn’t imagine she was getting half of what she wanted across, but Charlie nodded a few times, in all the right places, his eyes flicking over her shoulder every so often. “She’s . . . more vocal than I expected your progeny to be.”

Maggie broke off at that, eyeing Stark warily. “What’s pro-genie?”

“Offspring,” Stark replied before Phil could answer. “Child. Made of the same genetic material and sprung from one’s loins.” Maggie stared at him, unsure but waiting him out, and Stark added, “Yeah, okay, I see the resemblance now.”

“Maggie, this is Mr. Stark. Stark, meet Maggie.”

“Hi,” Maggie chirped. “How do I sign your name?”

Stark touched his nose with one hand in a _t_ , then swept it down in a circular motion across his chest.

Maggie imitated him with a nod, then asked, “Is that your car?”

“One of ‘em.”

“Is it broken?” She stuttered over the sign for broken, and Charlie looked past her again, his gaze on the wall for half a second. Then he made a sign Phil didn’t know, and looked to Stark expectantly.

“That’s ‘broken,’” Stark supplied, repeating the sign, and Phil, surprised, looked over his own shoulder.

In blue light on the gleaming white wall, _Thank you._ appeared even as Maggie said it, quickly followed by _Is it broken?_ The words faded as her question ended, and Phil turned back, shooting a small smile up at the ceiling for Jarvis.

“Nope,” Stark was saying. “Charlie and I just like tinkering with it. We’re trying to supercharge it, make it go really fast.”

“Because the Bugatti over in the corner isn’t enough?” Phil asked.

“Hey, you never know when you’re gonna have to outrun someone, or what car you’ll be in at the time.”

Phil was tempted to roll his eyes, but he refrained, realizing that he couldn’t judge Stark for that, not with the life the man led. Instead he turned to Charlie, signing, “Hungry?”

Charlie shrugged and looked over at the Bentley wistfully. “Stay?”

Phil hesitated. He didn’t want to disappoint him, but both kids needed dinner, and surely Stark had other things he’d rather be doing. “You need to eat,” Phil said, his hands moving gently.

“So we’ll order in,” Stark interrupted, and Phil tried not to show his surprise. Stark gave a small, nonchalant shrug that Phil suspected was a little forced. “If you can stay.”

“Can we, Daddy?”

Well. How could he say no to that? Phil allowed a fond smile for his daughter, and didn’t shift it when he nodded at Stark. “Sure.”

“Right,” Stark said briskly, pushing off the car and directing his next words at Maggie. “So, Capri Sun, what are you hungry for? Sushi? Korean-Mexican fusion? A reinterpretation of classic Provençal cuisine?”

Maggie rolled with the odd nickname and ignored the wild suggestions she didn’t understand. “Chicken nuggets!”

Stark nodded gamely and glanced at Charlie, who asked for spaghetti, making Stark grin. “I know just the place. J, order up! Nuggets, spaghetti, a burger for me, and whatever Haribo’s dad wants.”

“A burger for me too, please, Jarvis,” Phil said. “Medium, with some kind of vegetable as a side.” He doubted Maggie would switch out any of her fries for him, but he lived in hope.

“Placing order now, sir.”

“Pull up a crate, Starburst,” Stark said to Maggie, who ran across the room to do just that, pulling with all her strength to get it back to the Bentley. “Let’s get to work.”

 

_________

 

**4.**

Phil cringed when he saw someone patiently waiting for the private elevator hidden in the lobby of Stark Tower. Maggie was in the middle of a full-blown meltdown, overtired, overstimulated, and enraged that she’d been made to leave the Children’s Museum before she’d been ready and without a trip to the gift shop.

The doors to the elevator opened well before he, Maggie, Charlie, and Clint got there, but the man merely held the doors and waited for them. Phil scooped Maggie up in an effort to move faster, but Clint actually seemed to hesitate as they neared.

“You sure?”

“It’s fine,” the man assured.

“Sorry,” Phil offered as they slipped inside. “It’s been a long day. Too long, for some.”

“Believe me, I get it.”

Clint laughed. “Phil, this is Bruce.” Clint put both his hands in the shape of the letter b, then made the sign for calm with a small, gentle sweeping motion.

“He of the naan,” Phil said with a smile, committing the sign to memory even though he couldn’t, at the moment, repeat it. He shifted Maggie on his hip and shook Bruce’s hand as Clint said, “What?”

Bruce smiled. “That would be me.”

“Nice to meet you. This shrieking banshee is Maggie, my daughter. Hey, tantrum girl. Can you say hi to Mr. Banner?”

“Doctor,” Clint corrected as Maggie continued to wail in Phil’s ear about wanting a giant magnet and puffy paint.

Phil thought that through and realized his mistake. “Not one of Stark’s chefs then.”

Bruce shook his head with a laugh. “No. Is that who told you about the naan?”

“He and Pepper mentioned it, one time, within my earshot.” He turned to Clint. “And that you, I think, would eat it all if he wasn’t there to save some.”

“Sounds about right,” Clint said with a grin.

The elevator slowed and Phil bounced Maggie just once, trying to claim her attention. “Let’s try this again, please. Can you say hello to Dr. Banner?”

Maggie responded by breaking into a fresh wave of tears and burying her face in the crook of Phil’s neck.

“Apparently not,” Clint chuckled as the doors slid open, and he nudged Charlie to get him moving.

“My apologies, Dr. Banner,” Phil said on a sigh as followed Clint off the elevator.

“Hey, no worries,” Bruce said with a rueful grin. “Sometimes you just have to let it all out.”

Clint laughed and Charlie curved his arms in front of his torso, mimicking a strongman, and Bruce’s smile brightened as the doors closed between them.

 

_________

 

**5.**

“You’re not Natasha.” The words were startled out of Phil, and he immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But, really. He’d been expecting Natasha. He’d been _prepared_ for Natasha. When Phil had unexpectedly had to stay late at work, Clint had picked Maggie up from the company daycare, Edwin and Anna’s, more than happy to feed her and entertain her and let her spend her evening with Charlie. 

A sudden call from S.H.I.E.L.D. had come through, however, and Clint had called with an apology and to check that Phil was okay with Natasha staying behind as babysitter. Phil had been more than okay with that, as long as her weapons were locked away in Clint’s weapons safes hidden throughout the apartment.

So, yes. Phil has been expecting Natasha. He’d been _ready_ for Natasha. He had not, in his wildest dreams, been prepared to come face to face with Captain America.

Captain America smiled. “I’m not,” he agreed amicably, and offered his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

Thankfully, Phil’s body knew what to do while his brain was stalled, and he reached out to shake his childhood hero’s hand. “Phil Coulson.”

Captain America nodded, obviously having expected that. “Phil, I hope you don’t mind the babysitter switch. We got some last minute intel that indicated Natasha would be a better fit.”

 _Mind?_ Phil blinked, trying to get his brain back in gear. Of course he didn’t _mind_.

“I’m sorry,” Captain America said, somehow looking sheepish and small. “Clint assured me it would be okay.”

Oh, God, Captain America thought Phil was mad at him. He had to do something. Speak. He had to speak and assure Captain America that everything was fine.

Nothing came out.

“I mean,” Captain America continued into the silence, one hand coming up to grip the edge of the door, “you don’t know me, and I’m watching your daughter. I tried to tell Clint—”

“But you’re Captain America!” And, oh, shit, now Phil was interrupting Captain America, who looked even more chagrined than Phil felt. “It’s . . . Of course it’s okay!”

“Actually,” Captain America said with a relieved expression and a warning finger to his lips, “right now I’m simply Mr. Steve. Though you can just call me Steve.” He made a sign with his name, forming an _s_ with his right hand and tapping it to his right shoulder twice.

Phil nodded, flabbergasted that he was allowed to call Captain America _Steve_. Not that he would, really. Maybe he could manage the more formal Captain Rogers, though. Still, he copied the sign as Captain America stepped back in invitation.

Stepping inside, Phil caught Maggie as she ran to him and hoisted her up easily. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun today?”

“Uh-huh. Clint had to go to work, so Mr. Steve came over and babysat us.” Her hands moved as she spoke, and Phil took a moment to be proud of how much she’d learned in just a few short months. “And, Daddy, guess _what?_ You know that big party in the park for all the kids who get picked on?”

“Yeah,” Phil encouraged with a smile. It was actually a charity event, raising funds for an anti-bullying campaign, but that concept was a little beyond her grasp. Anyway, given the guest of honor, he had a feeling he knew where this was going. He glanced at Captain Rogers quickly, then looked back to Maggie as she continued excitedly.

“Mr. Steve said we could go, if it’s okay with you! I told him you said it was esspensive, but he said he knows someone in charge of it, and we could go for free!”

“Oh, Mr. Steve said that, did he?” Phil coaxed, too amused to remember to be nervous and weird.

“She found an action figure,” Captain Rogers explained, “in Charlie’s toy box. The subject kind of came up from there.”

“I’m sure it did,” Phil replied dryly. Then, to Maggie, he said, “I don’t know, baby.”

“But, Daddy,” she cut in. “Captain _‘Merica’s_ gonna be there. He’s your most favoritest ever!”

Phil took a deep breath and did not look over at Captain Rogers. He considered correcting her, telling her that Hawkeye was his most favoritest ever, but that would invite questions he didn’t want to answer. “Manners, Miss Maggie. Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

He kissed her forehead and swung her down, setting her on her feet. “Let me talk it over with Mr. Steve. Go play with Charlie, and I’ll let you know what I decide.”

She took off down the hall, and Phil took a deep breath before turning back to face his hero.

Who, once again, looked quite sheepish. “Sorry. She was telling me all about the event, and how much she wanted to go and show Captain America that she could sign too. The offer kind of slipped out.”

“I don’t mind the offer,” Phil said with a small smile. “It’s really very generous. But what’s going to happen when we get there and it’s you in the uniform? She may not recognize you in civilian clothes, but there’s no way she won’t recognize Mr. Steve as Captain America once he’s in uniform.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Captain Rogers said, and gestured for Phil to sit. “It’s more like a convention setup than any sort of mingling meet-and-greet. I’m in a private event tent, and you’re assigned a time with your invitation. You line up, get your three minutes or whatever in the tent, and then go wander the attractions. All you have to do is text me when you’re next in line, and I’ll put on my cowl.”

Phil suppressed the thrill of the very notion of having Captain America’s private number, and tried not succumb to the temptation of that alone. “That might actually work,” he mused after a moment. “She certainly didn’t recognize Mr. Stark, and he’s well known in and out of the Iron Man suit.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I figured. Anyway, you don’t have to decide right away. The event isn’t for another month. Just let me know by the end of next week. After that, I feel a little bad bugging the coordinators, when they’re working so hard to get it up and running.”

“Of course. Thank you, Captain.”

“Please, it’s my pleasure. And it’s Steve, okay?”

Phil nodded, but didn’t say anything. He might have to take his time with that one.

 

_________

 

**+1.**

Maggie ran ahead of Phil and Daisy into the large communal kitchen, heading straight for Charlie, who was helping Pepper set the table.

Pepper, of course, put her straight to work, handing over the napkins with a smile. “Hello, Phil. Daisy,” she said when they reached her at a more sedate pace.

“Pepper.”

“They’re all in a meeting at the moment. Should be done soon.”

Phil nodded and nudged Daisy to grab the plates while he fetched some glasses. It was only a few moments before everyone emerged from one of the hallways, led by an imposing man wearing an eyepatch. Something niggled in Phil’s brain, but he didn’t chase it, unwilling to delve too deeply into Avengers business.

The man, however, nodded at him and said, “Coulson.”

The wine glass Phil was setting by Pepper’s plate thunked a little too loudly on the table. “Sergeant Johnson?”

Phil’s former sergeant and long-lost friend laughed and strode into the elevator. “It’s Director Fury now, you punk,” he said, making _f_ s with his hands and giving the sign for trust. The elevator closed on his smirking face, and Phil blinked away his surprise only to find everyone staring at him.

“He was in the Army with me,” Phil said, answering their unspoken questions. “Tried to recruit me to the Rangers, but I’d promised my mom I’d go to school, after.” He shrugged. “Finance wasn’t nearly as exciting, but it was infinitely safer.”

Clint laughed and moved towards him, saying, “Just imagine how different your life would have been.”

Phil gave a small hum and kissed Clint hello. “I don’t know,” he said as everyone found their places at the table and Daisy started babbling at Stark about some new computer program that was rumored to be unbeatable, and Maggie demanded to sit between Charlie and Auntie Nat, and Steve made her shriek when he swung her up into his newly vacated chair. “I’m pretty happy with how things turned out.”

 

 

—the end—

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t resist the West Wing reference!
> 
>  **List of Signs:**  
> [The alphabet](http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-layout/handshapes.htm)  
> [Thunder](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=2651): Thor  
> [Sarcastic](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=4053): Tony  
> [Hungry](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=1076) (this would be said as a head tilt in this case, to indicate a question)  
> [Stay](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=2071)  
> [Calm](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=301): Bruce  
> [Captain](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=3275): Steve  
> [Tall](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=2149): Pepper  
> [Trust](http://www.handspeak.com/word/search/index.php?id=2270): Fury


End file.
